


Give A Little Bit

by enigmaticblue



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-25 07:03:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/636347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony flirts. To his surprise, Bruce flirts back. (And trolls Steve a little bit.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give A Little Bit

**Author's Note:**

> Written for thomasina75, who wanted confident!Bruce flirting with Tony. Her wish is my command, as always.

Bruce wanders into Tony’s workshop with a steaming mug of tea in hand, wearing worn jeans and a black t-shirt. “Hey.”

 

“Jarvis said you got in this morning,” Tony replies with a grin. “Any reason you came back a week early?”

 

Bruce takes a sip of tea. “I guess I missed your smiling face.”

 

Tony blinks. He’s been flirting with Bruce for _months_ now, and no joy. Tony’s both delighted and surprised. “There’s a lot here to miss.”

 

Bruce pointedly looks Tony up and down and smiles. “Hm.”

 

“That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say?” Tony demands teasingly.

 

Bruce shrugs. “Why pump your ego up more than it already is?”

 

Tony grins. “I think you just did that.”

 

Bruce takes another sip of tea and leans against Tony’s bench next to him. “What are you working on?”

 

“Are we not talking about the fact that you were just flirting with me?”

 

“I don’t believe we are,” Bruce responds. “We’re talking about what you’re working on.”

 

Tony smirks. “Don’t think I’m going to let that go.”

 

“There will be plenty of time for flirting later,” Bruce replies equably.

 

Tony likes the sound of that. “Does that mean you’re sticking around?”

 

“We’ll see,” Bruce replies. “Depends on whether or not you can keep me busy.”

 

Tony takes that for the challenge it is. “Oh, I think I can manage that. Pull up a chair, Brucie.”

 

Bruce rolls his eyes. “If you keep that up, there will be no flirtation in the future.”

 

“Are we scheduling flirtation times now?” Tony asks.

 

“I didn’t think you needed to schedule that,” Bruce replies slyly. “You seem to squeeze that in all the time.”

 

“I can multitask,” Tony protests.

 

Bruce raises an eyebrow and gives Tony a truly devious smile. It’s a good look on him. “Good to know,” he says mildly.

 

“You are evil,” Tony accuses.

 

Bruce’s expression turns mischievous. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

 

“Is that a promise?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce shrugs. “If you want to take it that way.”

 

“You’re playing coy, Doctor,” Tony says.

 

Bruce just grins and doesn’t reply.

 

~~~~~

 

Tony knows that _something_ is up with Bruce. The man had come back a week early from a post-disaster humanitarian mission that was supposed to last three months, and he’d returned in a ridiculously good mood.

 

A few days later, and he’s _still_ flirting back, for one, where he’s always ignored Tony’s overtures in the past, and he’s also—

 

Well. The only word Tony can come up with is “trolling.”

 

“No, seriously,” Clint is saying from his perch on the bar. “If you flush a goldfish down the toilet, it will mutate and go to live in the sewers.”

 

They’re all hanging out in the kitchen, watching as Bruce stirs a vat of sauce on the stove. They had been called out earlier that day to respond to a call on an alien invasion (of robots, this time), and had all wound up back at the Tower afterward. Tony had offered to buy dinner, but Bruce insisted that he wanted to cook, and Tony let him.

 

Right now, the scent of a rich Bolognese sauce fills the penthouse, and there’s a pot of water boiling on the stove, ready for the pasta, which Bruce throws in.

 

“Here,” Bruce says, holding out a spoon. “Steve, you’re least likely to screw it up.”

 

Tony puts a hand on his chest. “You wound me.”

 

Steve, of course, does as he’s told, taking the spoon and obediently giving the pasta a stir to make sure it’s all submerged in boiling water.

 

Bruce glances over his shoulder with a grin. “Pepper warned me about the three-hour omelet.”

 

“That was on an airplane!” Tony protests. “I didn’t even have a real kitchen.”

 

Bruce shrugs. “Still.”

 

Steve gives the pasta another stir. “What were you saying, Clint?”

 

“Flushed goldfish live on in the sewers. And _mutate_ ,” Clint repeats, waving his hands for emphasis.

 

“Are they anything like bilgesnipes?” Thor asks.

 

“What’s a bilgesnipe?” Bruce asks.

 

“Large, repulsive creatures,” Thor replies. “They trample everything in their path.”

 

“I don’t think we have them here,” Tony replies.

 

Thor inserts, “And be grateful for that, my friends. They are most vile. Do you hunt this golden fish?”

 

Tony swallows his laughter, and admires Clint for keeping a perfectly straight face, even though Natasha’s lips quirk. Bruce keeps his attention on the sauce, so Tony can’t see his expression.

 

“They’re pulling your leg,” Steve says, but there’s just a little bit of uncertainty in his voice.

 

“They really aren’t,” Tony says. “You never know what you’ll find in the sewers.”

 

Bruce clears his throat. “They’re totally pulling your leg, Steve. Goldfish don’t survive being flushed.”

 

Clint deflates a bit, because Steve is sure to believe Bruce, and he’s just indicated that Clint is full of shit.

 

And _then_ , Bruce adds, “But there are plenty of mutated reptiles down there, like turtles.”

 

Tony is pretty sure that Bruce just made a _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_ reference, and he’s pretty sure that only Clint and Natasha’s training in covert ops prevents them from laughing out loud.

 

Steve stares at Bruce, an expression of disbelief mingled with apprehension. “Seriously?”

 

“It’s a well known fact. There have been pictures in the paper,” Bruce says placidly.

 

He’s probably telling the truth; some of the tabloids have that kind of thing all the time. But it's a brilliant tactic, considering that Steve and Thor haven’t yet figured out that not everything in the papers is the truth.

 

“And you do not hunt these creatures?” Thor asks incredulously.

 

“They’re generally pretty friendly,” Bruce replies. “I ran into some a few years ago when I was dodging the Army.” He glances at Tony and—was that a _wink_? “When I broke Harlem.”

 

Tony can’t quite believe that Bruce just winked at him. “Mutated turtles, huh?” Tony asks casually.

 

“A couple of turtles and an alligator,” Bruce says seriously.

 

Thor and Steve are eating out of Bruce’s hand, and even Clint and Natasha are beginning to look as though they almost believe him, even though they know better.

 

“I think the pasta is done,” Steve says.

 

Bruce grins. “Perfect. Dump it in the colander.”

 

In a few minutes, they’re dishing up big bowls of pasta and sauce, and there are groans of appreciation from around the table.

 

“I vote that Bruce cooks all the time,” Clint says.

 

“You’re handy in the kitchen,” Natasha replies. “Maybe you two should take turns.”

 

Steve smiles. “I can usually manage something edible. I don’t mind helping out.”

 

Thor speaks with his mouth full. “I do not know how to cook, but I would be willing to learn.”

 

“The girls love that sort of thing,” Clint says.

 

Thor frowns. “There is only one woman I wish to impress.”

 

“Does Jane like to eat?” Bruce asks. When Thor nods, Bruce replies. “Then she’ll appreciate it. I don’t know anybody who doesn’t like a home cooked meal.”

 

“Then I will happily accept your tutelage, Dr. Banner,” Thor says graciously. “And I will thank you for the favor.”

 

Later, after everyone had eaten and had either gone home for the evening or headed for a guest room in the Tower, Tony pours two drinks—one for himself, and one for Bruce.

 

Bruce accepts it with a smile, and Tony sits down next to him. “You want to tell me what’s going on?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce takes a sip of whiskey. “I have no idea what you mean.”

 

“You’re looser,” Tony says. “You were _trolling Steve_.”

 

Bruce grins. “Yeah, I was. It was fun.”

 

“You left a couple of months ago with a stick up your ass, and you come back flirting and trolling,” Tony points out. “I have to wonder if there’s a pod somewhere around here.”

 

“No pod,” Bruce assures him. “And it’s not a stick I want up my ass.”

 

That blatant innuendo leaves Tony speechless for a few seconds, long enough for Bruce to notice and start chuckling, a dry, almost rusty sound. Tony can’t help but notice that Bruce’s eyes crinkle at the corners, and Tony takes another drink.

 

“You’re not serious,” Tony finally says.

 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. “Aren’t I?”

 

“You’re offering?” Tony counters, fully expecting Bruce to back down.

 

Bruce smirks. “Isn’t that what I said? I thought you were the smartest man in the world.”

 

“That’s Reed Richards,” Tony says automatically, and then he goes in for the kiss he’s wanted to steal for months.

 

Bruce welcomes Tony with broad, clever hands that slip up under his shirt, and a clever mouth that is at odds with his shy, self-deprecating manner. They stretch out on the couch, Tony blanketing Bruce’s body with his, and Bruce smiles against Tony’s mouth.

 

“Okay, just for my own piece of mind,” Tony says, when he breaks off the kiss several minutes later. “What changed? I’ve been flirting with you for _months_.”

 

Bruce hums beneath his breath. “I realized something when I was away.”

 

Tony braces himself on his arms, hovering above Bruce’s outstretched body, their pelvises pressing together in a distracting way. “What’s that?” Tony manages.

 

“I could come home,” Bruce replies simply, his hands clutching Tony’s ass. “I realized I had a home to come back to, and friends.”

 

“And you realized you could troll Steve,” Tony says.

 

Bruce grins mischievously. “That, too. But that wasn’t the main reason I came back early.”

 

“And what was the main reason?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce squeezes Tony’s ass. “Do you have to ask? I really thought you were smarter than that.”

 

“Right now, I feel like the smartest guy in the world,” Tony admits and buries a hand in Bruce’s hair.

 

“You are, at least as far as I’m concerned,” Bruce replies. “I’m your biggest fan.”

 

“Well, I should do what I can for my biggest fan,” Tony counters. “What do you say we find a bed?”

 

Bruce laughs. “Well, I’d say you were a genius, but we both knew that already.”

 

And Tony leads Bruce back to his bedroom, intent on proving just how much of a genius he is, in _every_ area.

 

Which, looking back, might have been Bruce’s intent. It’s not like either of them had any complaints afterward.


End file.
